


Again

by thorvaenn



Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: Anal Sex, Fix-It of Sorts, Happy Ending, M/M, Oral Sex, Time Travel, but a weirdly sad one kinda
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-18
Updated: 2017-07-18
Packaged: 2018-12-03 20:03:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11539449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thorvaenn/pseuds/thorvaenn
Summary: “I have no idea what to do,” he said, though the words came out oddly resolute. “But there is a man who taught me that sometimes it's better if things are simple.”Laurent wakes up in another time, facing a daunting task: how to ensure his improbable happiness again.To Damen, none of this is known.My entry for the amazingCaptive Prince Anthology.





	Again

**Author's Note:**

> I was very lucky to pair with the talented Candy! You can see the [art for this fic here.](http://cannedebonbon.tumblr.com/post/163108668567/my-contribution-to-the-capri-anthology-project)
> 
> Many thanks to [Michaela](http://kingwillrise.tumblr.com/) for the patient and helpful beta! 
> 
> The anthology came out looking beautiful, stuffed with amazing fic and art and the proceeds are headed to charity!
> 
> I have taken several lines directly from the Captive Prince novel, they are italicized.

_Laurent had stopped dead the moment he had seen Damen, his face turning white, as though in reaction to a slap or insult._

 

“A gift from the King of Akielos,” Laurent said, voice curiously neutral. Even bent on his knees, head forced down, Damen had enough of a view to see Laurent's blue eyes boring into him with intensity. His pulse sped up and it had nothing to do with the curious – and mocking – murmurs of the gathered courtiers. Was there a chance the prince of Vere might recognise him?

 

_Councillor Guion spoke. “He's intended as a pleasure slave, but he isn't trained. Kastor suggested that you might like to break him at your leisure.”_

 

Laurent finally pulled his gaze away from Damen, glancing at Guion briefly. “A distasteful suggestion.”

 

Guion bowed, face growing pink. Despite the insult, Damen felt a flash of relief. That was however entirely short-lived as Laurent spoke again.

 

“Remove his gag and leave us.”

 

There was a flurry of protests, both from the courtiers who unhappily moved out with an air of dissatisfaction, and from the handlers. “ _He's got a mouth on him,_ ” one of them warned.

 

Laurent's orders were given with a calm voice and cool expression, and they were followed. Damen ran his tongue over his lips as the cloth was removed, but despite his guards and the handler leaving, the prince as his only opponent, the chain and his bound hands remained an obstacle he was unlikely to overcome just then.

 

The door closed and they were alone. Laurent truly made an astonishing figure and Damen found himself blinking as the harsh line of his mouth softened, lips parting with an exhale as he looked down at Damen.

 

Damen waited for him to say something. The sense of acute danger remained.

 

And then he waited some more. Damen didn’t know where to put his eyes.

 

A while later, Laurent turned and walked to the opposite wall, sitting down on the ground and leaning against it, pulling his knees up. Damen stared. It was a youthful, informal pose and he could not even begin to imagine what the prince intended to do.

 

Is this how they did things in Vere?

 

To his utter amazement, the silence went on. Laurent sat, no longer looking at Damen, but rather nowhere at all, a slightly glassy look in his eyes.

 

Minutes ticked by. Perhaps hours. Damen's bent back and tightly pulled shoulders were beginning to ache. His confusion was more than a little laced with panic, too. Was this a test?

 

He decided to risk it. “What are you doing?”

 

He winced at his tone. This was not how a slave should speak to a prince. He had decided to be inconspicuous and already he was making mistakes.

 

But Laurent only looked at him, smiling wryly. “Why am I sitting here with my Akielon slave?” His tone wasn't unkind. “I don't think you would believe me if I told you.”

 

Damen didn't like this. Veretians were tricky and unpredictable. Laurent's manner was unnerving him and he instinctively tried to pull back when Laurent got to his feet and walked towards him.

 

He was even more unnerved when Laurent went to his knees.

 

“Did they not warn you that I am a dangerous barbarian?” Damen asked when Laurent – of all things – cupped his cheek.

 

“No one could have warned me about you.”

 

_What_ ? Was this- Was Laurent _attracted_ to him? As he peered closely into Damen's face, it almost seemed like it, despite the fact that no one had more reason to hate Akielons than Laurent of Vere. But the moment passed and Laurent got to his feet, walking over to the window.

 

He spoke with his back turned to Damen.

 

“I have no idea what to do,” he said, though the words came out oddly resolute. “But there is a man who taught me that sometimes it's better if things are simple.”

 

Damen couldn't help but wonder where Laurent found such a man in Vere.

 

Laurent turned to him, motions brisk and business-like.

 

“I know who you are, Damianos.” The shock ripped through Damen like a bolt of lightning. “Kastor's coup was facilitated by my uncle the Regent who hopes to rid me of my life and throne just as your brother did with yours, tearing Akielos apart with war as he does it.”

 

Damen's head was spinning in panic. _No_.

 

But Laurent wasn't done. “And we are going to stop them together.”

 

* * *

 

A couple of weeks later, Damen got to ask the question that had been burning in his mind ever since that moment.

 

“Why do you not hate me?”

 

The Veretian court was a whirlwind of repulsive scheming and in the midst of it, Laurent was the best schemer of all. Damen got to witness it all. He saw Laurent procure a stack of old letters proving the Regent's treachery, watched Laurent skillfully draw the Regent's pet – a child, horrifically – away from his master, taking him under his wing, and lastly, just now securing a deal with Torveld of Patras that freed Damen's mistreated countrymen from this snake pit of a court.

 

The distrust he felt towards Laurent only mounted.

 

Carefully, Laurent put down his cup on a small side-table.

 

“You are a prince, as am I. We share a goal.” The words were crafted, cautious. Damen let out a huff of frustration.

 

He was mostly free to move as he wished, the collar and cuffs remaining his only restraints, marking him as the slave they both knew he wasn't. He was held in the palace by Laurent's words and promises. He was not quite sure how long those would last.

 

“You know what I did.” They haden't spoken about this before. About Auguste.

 

“Don't.” Laurent was curt, turning away from Damen, but Damen decided that this time, he would not be deterred.

 

“Do you see it as some kind of a favour?” Weeks of confusion made the words come out a little harsher than was perhaps deserved. “Do you want the throne so much-”

 

Laurent swept his arm across the table and sent everything flying.

 

“How dare you?!” Laurent's voice ringed louder than anything Damen had ever heard from him and mingled with the crash of a cup and a pitcher on the tile floor. “He was everything- I _told_ you-”

 

Laurent made an aborted step towards Damen, clearly stopping himself only with a great deal of difficulty. His face was contorted, eyes wide and so, so _hurt_.

 

“You are keeping things from me,” Damen pressed despite the guilt that churned in his stomach. He had never seen Laurent lose control like this. He was well aware of the cruelty of his suggestion, it was simply that everything between them felt so convoluted he could barely stand it.

 

For a long while, Laurent seemed to simply breathe.

 

Then he stepped towards Damen. Not like before, with barely restrained violence, but slowly, with more determination.

 

He cupped Damen's cheeks and Damen swallowed. Laurent was beautiful. And just Damen's type. He was acutely aware of this every time he looked at him. Every time Laurent got this close.

 

“Tomorrow before the hunt, my uncle is going to poison my horse.” He said it still holding Damen's face. “I can't decide if I should stop it or not.”

 

“Laurent, that's- you could _die_.” Damen caught Laurent's wrists, pulling his hands away. Boar hunting was a dangerous sport. It seemed inconceivable that Laurent would consider getting on a dying horse and riding out against a boar.

 

“I don't think I would,” Laurent smiled, though it didn't reach his eyes. “But the horse, I... she's dear to me. But I am not sure it's wise to interrupt my uncle's plans that way.”

 

“You have proof of his treachery. Why not-”

 

“Not yet. It's... it's not enough. I need Guion too.”

 

Damen considered his next words very carefully. “Guion can testify to Kastor's treachery. You don't need him to get rid of your uncle.”

 

If what Laurent was telling him was the truth, _Damen_ was the one who needed Guion.

 

And that was the point of it, the prickle of suspicion.

 

Laurent was helping Damen at his own expense. There had to be an ulterior motive, some scheme that Damen wasn't seeing. They were enemies and he was at Laurent's mercy.

 

It made no sense.

 

He let go of Laurent's wrists. “Stop the poisoning.”

 

* * *

 

For someone who was deep in enemy territory, surrounded by an enemy army, knowing well that the man standing beside him was about to reclaim his command of said army, Laurent was remarkably calm.

 

Damen had grown familiar with it, the steel-willed control that Laurent seemed to only let go of when the two of them were alone, the constant whirring of a ruthless mind.

 

It was the latter that had - so far - prevented him from accepting what was offered by the former. Seeing Laurent face Nikandros, trying not to feel as though Laurent was handing him over like a neatly wrapped gift with a bow tied around it and a little “well?” in the tilt of his head, Damen thought of those moments of privacy, with lit candles and the soft sweep of Laurent’s lashes as he stood close to Damen, not reaching out, but perhaps waiting for Damen to do so.

 

_“Damianos.”_

 

Damen was _home_ and nearly everything that Laurent had promised him was coming true. The testimony of Guion and his wife. The Regent’s ship intercepted on its way to Ios where he was headed to join with Kastor. Kastor’s treachery announced to the world.

 

Damen clasped Nikandros’ arm, the joy of seeing his old friend momentarily overriding all else.

 

Next to him, Laurent smiled.

 

* * *

 

“I didn't think I'd be here again,” Laurent said and Damen went cold.

 

“Again?” he repeated. They stood in Lentos in the summer palace, enjoying the view of the sea slowly darkening into deep blue as the evening crept up on them. There was a tension between them the whole day, a tension that Damen had quite looked forward to finally resolving.

 

“Something happened to me. Something that surpasses my understanding. Some days, I think it was perhaps a dream.”

 

“Laurent… “

 

“The morning of the day we met, I woke up in my bed in Arles and thought I was having a nightmare, because the day before I went to bed in Marlas. With you. After I'd just been crowned King.”

 

Damen stood mutely. Laurent’s voice was calm, his gaze clear. And yet what he was saying was madness.

 

“You were King as well, but not quite as you are. You think you chafed at being my slave? You hadn't met me when I still hated you. I tried to kill you, more than once. I was cruel to you and yet you fell in love with me, and I with you. And then I was right back at the start, and I've never been more scared of failure.”

 

“You… Laurent, you mean to tell me that we've met? That we've somehow-” Damen couldn't wrap his head around what Laurent was saying. He wasn't quite sure he should even attempt it. Was this a game? Or sickness?

 

“I lived two lives. Well, parts of it. I wish it wasn't…”

 

Laurent trailed off, only to seemingly pick up more courage and continue. “I miss the way we were, but it’s selfish of me, because you’ve suffered. You are happier now. But I feel adrift.”

 

Damen allowed himself to think about it. Cautiously. He sat down on a stone bench, leaving Laurent where he was, still leaning against the railing.

 

He had attributed Laurent’s uncanny ability to outscheme all of his - and at some point they had become _their_ \- opponents to his brilliant mind and in a way, he still saw it was true, but could there be more? This… premonition of sorts? Moments flashed in Damen’s mind, moments when Laurent came forward with a bit of information, someone’s plan, moments where he expected with certainty that people act a certain way and they did. He wasn’t paying attention, thinking it a Veretian trait, a result of having a net of spies perhaps, or bribing the right people.

 

But was it possible that Laurent knew because he had already seen it happen?

 

“Tell me something,” Damen asked. “Tell me something that you couldn’t know. That you learned from me before, but not now.”

 

He didn’t expect Laurent to smile fondly. Then he seemed to think for a moment.

 

“Kastor tried to kill you when you were thirteen.”

 

Damen winced. And shook his head. “We were on the training grounds then, in public. You could have learned that from someone.”

 

“The first time you had sex.”

 

“I better not learn from Nikandros that you’ve been getting him drunk and asking questions.”

 

“You said it was a lot of rolling around. You didn’t know what to do. You were eager. And forgot yourself near the end, which is something that still happens to you.”

Damen swallowed thickly. The brief amusement of the moment faded, replaced with something else.

 

“I don’t,” Laurent said, gazing at him, “have that last part just from conversation.”

 

Desiring Laurent was something that Damen had grown used to, as much as the hot tingle underneath his skin could bear getting used to. But Laurent was asking for more than that.

 

“At Marlas?” It just came out, his mind circling back to what Laurent had said.

 

“Yes. We were building a new palace in Delpha too.”

 

Damen exhaled, feeling unexpectedly warm. He hadn’t realized just how much he liked having Laurent at his side.

 

And now… “What are you asking?”

 

For some reason, Laurent didn’t take the question well, his chin dropping as he turned away.

 

“Nothing that you wouldn’t… want.”

 

In a way, that was funny. Damen had been betrayed by his own brother, cast out, enslaved and yet barely months afterwards, he was back home, reinstated as King. And in large part, he had this peculiar young man to thank for it.

 

He got up. Laurent’s back was still turned and Damen placed his hands on Laurent’s shoulders, feeling the tension. He was dressed in pants and a thin shirt only, warm to the touch.

 

“Nations united?” Damen was aware of the incongruity of his tone, saying those words, murmuring them intimately into Laurent’s ear, his hands seeking to bare Laurent’s skin.

 

“Yes.”

 

“Courting you.” The suggestion briefly made him feel self-conscious despite understanding, mostly, what it was that Laurent wanted. Laurent’s shoulders shook beneath Damen’s touch briefly and then loosened.

 

“I’m a bit past needing that,” he said, turning and kissing Damen on the mouth. It was decisive and yet he could feel the tremble in Laurent, desperation lacing his kiss. Damen took it all in and gave himself over, prolonging the kiss until they broke off, panting, their foreheads touching.

 

“You are putting so much faith on me,” he told Laurent. “I will strive to be worthy of it.”

 

“You will, you are, it’s-” Laurent didn’t finish his sentence, kissing Damen again instead.

 

In joint eagerness, they retreated to Damen’s chambers, the brief pause giving Damen some time to think about Laurent’s fantastical revelation. Somewhere, in another time, another universe, there was a Damen who fell in love with a man who tried to take his revenge on him. Feeling Laurent’s warm fingers in his, seeing the sweep of his hair, and knowing his mind, the insouciant intelligence and the glimpses of sweet kindness, that part of it wasn’t particularly hard to believe.

 

Veretian laces were silly things and Damen tugged on the collar of Laurent’s shirt uselessly, eliciting a burst of breathless laughter from Laurent as he swatted his hands away and undressed himself.

 

“I’m glad you don’t know how to do that.”

 

“I assume that makes sense to you.”

 

“It does.” Laurent stepped closer, fully bared. Damen could scarcely believe the shape of him, long, milky limbs, lightly muscled. “I, however, do know how to do this.”

 

He unpinned Damen’s chiton easily and the cotton pooled on the floor.

 

They fell to the bed and Damen rolled on top of Laurent easily, looking up to be met with an open, mirthful blue gaze.

 

“Was it like this, too? Before?”

 

The openness didn’t go anywhere, but the smile vanished. “Not quite. It was at Ravenel. I was clothed, at first. I used my hand. Then you convinced me not to flee and you used your mouth.”

 

It rang true. Damen was never one to let a partner go unsatisfied.

 

“I didn’t reciprocate. Not then. But later. I had something to prove to myself. Perhaps some other time I will tell you about it.”

 

“I believe you,” Damen murmured, shocking them both. He wasn’t talking about the sex.

 

“Kiss me.”

 

Damen did, deeply, slowly.

 

“You have an advantage,” he said while nuzzling at Laurent’s neck. “I don’t know what you like.”

 

“Experience says that you are a fast learner.”

 

Damen found himself on his back, Laurent straddling his thighs. “In the meantime, I will use my advantage.”

 

Kissing his way down Damen’s body, he let his breath ghost over Damen’s erection. He started off with a slow, teasing lick to the underside and then, unmistakably, wrapped his lips around the head and pressed his tongue against Damen’s slit.

 

Damen arched, groaning. Then, with an edge of humour, he repeated: “I believe you.”

 

Laurent chuckled around him and very slowly slid down. Damen watched even though it was almost too much. Laurent was gentle yet insistent, his hands caressing the tops of Damen’s thighs absent-mindedly, the gesture almost caring; sweet.

 

“Laurent,” Damen warned mere minutes later, overwhelmed by his own simmering desire and everything that had happened. Laurent kept going and Damen closed his eyes, experiencing a moment of weightlessness; a fall that had nothing to do with his orgasm.

 

Afterwards he proved - reminded - Laurent that pleasing his partner was what mattered to him the most, learned the surprising reaction to slowness that Laurent had, learned the curves of his body, learned the way Laurent came undone when Damen slid into him, Laurent’s grip on Damen almost painful.

 

“I missed you, I missed you,” Laurent kept repeating, feverishly, over and over again, spilling between them and even if everything before had been a lie, too preposterous to believe, _this_ was true. Laurent came apart underneath him, a few tears slipping into his hair, and then he hugged Damen to himself hard enough to leave him out of breath, pulling Damen’s entire weight on top of him.

 

They ended up a breathless mess and Damen resolutely rearranged them so he could hold Laurent, their bodies pressed together, stroking a slow, soothing hand over Laurent’s back.

 

“I’m here,” Damen whispered to him, feeling the shudder that went through Laurent. “We’re here.”


End file.
